The Crooked Path

Perhaps a bit tardy, I would still like to express my condolence to everyone who loved coming to the Grange. I woke up that morning to smoke and firemen doing what they could. Smoke. Lots of it engulfed the old building. In the afternoon all was calm.

I went inside the building and took a few pictures. It looked to me as if the fire had started under the floor. Like the phoenix, perhaps. I hope it will all be for the better in the end.

Fire

Fire6

Fire7

Fire8

Fire at the Grange

Fire2

Fire2

Fire3

Fire4

Fire5

Although I did not participate in many events at the Grange, I often heard talking and playing from my backyard. Rotary, POLO, kids’ disco-events, blue-grass music, and church services on Sunday with a beautiful female lead singer.I wish I had risen earlier, seen the smoke and lessened the damage, but wishes are horses that beggars can ride, I think they say.

I hope all will be well, I hear a lot of activity inside, and it seems the Grange will rise again in a few months with – perhaps – a new and better kitchen.

When digital music first came out, I listened to the silence – no pops, no hiss, no wobble – and I was impressed.
As a musician I had to admit someone had made the world of music better by inventing digital recording.
Perhaps some who read this may not even have heard old analogue records (LPs) in their original format.

[Short summary: Digital audio is to sound what video is to film, where light interacts directly with silver oxides. The digital circuit – on the other hand – looks at electricity vibrating, then measures it over time and writes down the measurements. When we listen to the digital “recording” another circuit uses those measurement-numbers to construct sound. In live music your ears (and body) hear from many angles and locations. The details of the dynamic interaction between many sounds in real time is not only extraordinarily complex, it also takes place in 3D. The ear and brain has no problem with it, but particularly in the upper range a digital translator measuring a mere 44,100 times per second is no match for such complexity. When we sample at higher rates we get better detail of course. [Personal observation: At 120,000 Hz the hairs on the back of my neck stood up from listening to a recording of single flute.]

Digital music is missing soul because numbers are finite and soul is infinite. There is no end to soul or spirit. When digital music was first invented the technicians thought as follows: The highest vibration humans can hear is about 22,000 Hz/Sec. If we make measurements for twice that, we should be safe. Hence a typical CD is 44,100 sets of numbers per second.

Who knows how much we hear or perceive?
When a mother sings to a child on her breast, would not a child notice that the blessing of food is also accompanied by a wonderful sound and vibration as the mother’s chest also resonates with her voice. Real sound is a form of touch and and music connects us. As fas as senses go, eyes tell us what is “real”, while sound communicates to our emotion. Life is analogue (except for DNA). Sound is touch, at high speed. In music the emotion of the player, through touch of a key or string is felt simultaneously by the audience. When the connection is felt, joy springs out and faces smile together from across a room. The moment comes into focus as rhythm relaxes and everyone listens.
That is music.
That is music to me.
That will never happen in the digital world.

I am sadly convinced that the quest for technical audio perfection, called Digital Sound is starving us from Soul.

[Note: Perhaps the effects of digital translation it is not so apparent in the visual world. I am thrilled to see the details in my new computer monitor, Blue Ray is looking as good as CDs looked when it first came out. “What we see is what is real” we say, but it is perhaps more like “What is real is what we see”. I believe it takes the presence of a Soul – through Mind – to make something real.

Here’s the thing:
Human beings thrive by contact with each other.
They vane when the become separated.
Would you not agree?

Now notice the Digital world is everywhere:
TV screens, cameras, recorders, Iphones, videogames, CDs, DVDs, our cellphones, even home-phones are now digital.
Except for when we are physically together, we don’t hear the sound of each other when we talk, We hear a circuit’s description of the sounds we make. As we move forward I can see us all being pixilated, becoming interactive programs – ghosts haunting the halls of the World Wide Net forever.

Mixing at Capitol Records, Hollywood.

Still with me? Digital music is easy to transport, cut, splice, turn upside down and store on a disk and I work with it every day. As artists we can see if we can break through the membrane. Digital sound can fool us “enough” when melodic sounds are played. Acoustic piano, bells, horns, bass and drums seem to be easiest to listen to, while sharp treble-rich instruments like violins, shakers, cymbals, steel-stringed guitars – are hard to record well to Digital. But the best example I can think of to demonstrate the shortcomings of pure data, is this: Take any recording with good dynamic range, such as a rock band or even a symphony orchestra. Listen to the beauty and sound of the individual instruments during the soft passages, then listen to the loud sections and notice that you cannot hear the individual instruments any more. In the sixties Motown became famous for their “Wall of Sound”, but today your would not be able to pile so much complexity into a recording. Distortion from a live rock-guitar is fun, in digital-land distortion is brutal. Everything comes out in 90 degrees and straight lines. [Nature abhors straight lines, although ants from what I’ve seen are happy to make a gardenhose on my lawn into their personal freeway. I digress.]

Digital is a description of an event expressed by a machine. Old analogue records and live performances was an organic imprint of the sound itself, from one natural element to another. In the case of vinyl records: The process starts with air compressing a capsule, resulting in an alternating current, which is amplified to move a needle, which carves a groove on a rotating vinyl disk. Each step along the way is an organic real-life event. If we were to aim a microscope on a picture of the complex waveform of this type it would keep being nuanced and complex even if measured over a millionth of a second. A digital CD recording disregards any details beyond 44,100 samples per second.

We humans are far more sensitive to sound than we think. We perceive much more than we comprehend. I recommend more live music, birds and wind in the trees for everyone.
We cannot translate soul into numbers, thus I think there is now a Digital Membrane isolating most of us from each other. In that domain I believe we hear each other but do not connect well.

As I came back from a great Wednesday-evening of jamming in Solvang Brew House it became clear to me that music contains the essence of what the world needs now. There is no music without listeners, and we don’t need any more big ideas or solutions, we just need to listen. Not just to each other, but to ourselves as well. Speaking with some travelers in the audience I remarked that being a traveller was a wonderful journey into learning to trust and listen to our own instincts. We then find our path to the right places and people.

In Music the key is to listen, then you can find your melody.

In Life the trick is to notice the signs and be guided to the right places at the right times.

In politics the leaders now need to listen to it’s people.
Life can be a symphony with the right conductor.
What does a conductor do?
My grandfather was the conductor of a symphony orchestra.
Tonight I felt his spirit, along with Dave, Randy, Michael, Karen, Dan, Paula and an unnamed girl from North Carolina.

I so appreciated both Sat and Sunday last week, while Sunday took the cake as far as new style of music is concerned. The sense of presence, not just notes was felt and I want to thank Grace, Erik & Feel Good for putting my words into action. This week-end I WILL have the multitrack ready to go, and we can see it the magic translates into binary code.

Thank you all.

And thank you to Jake and Peter Loper who came to help with logistics.

I think some think I’m a snob.You only listen to your own music – a disgruntled female once flung at me.
You are so full of yourself, the expression goes.
But

Truthfully?
Who else should I be full of..?
Somebody else? That would be silly.

I’d like to say that I have learned from every player and singer I have worked with, but I’ve never tried to copy someone that I know of. Why should I? Nature never repeats itself, so why should we humans?

And about this snob-thing – let me explain something: I was born into a home of classical musicians. What incredible luck! I played, studied and improvised piano every day from early childhood. Then the Danish State Radio music-department became my second home in my teens. There was only one station for the Danes back then, so we played and sang to a whole country at a time. I could feel the listeners through the microphone.

After hours I would sneak into empty studios and concert halls, finding instruments to play. The first time I opened a 12 foot Steinway Grand and sat at the keys (in absolute studio silence) I first was intimidated even sitting all alone, and found myself apologizing to the piano for not playing Chopin or Rachmaninoff. But with the first three notes the doors to my church opened. From that moment the grand piano has been my altar, the keys, my scriptures – and my hands a way to pray.

The Crooked Path is a music sanctuary.

And to answer one particular female: I don’t usually listen to other people’s music because if I do, some song will keep playing in my ear for the better part of the day. I prefer an empty canvas. That doesn’t mean I think poorly of things like rock’n roll, I just wasn’t part of that scene, so I don’t have any ways relating to it with my heart.

I do sometimes listen to Mozart, Beethoven, Verdi or Benny Goodman.
Not because I’m a snob.
It’s because it’s amazing music.

Rollerblading around the neighborhood with my mother’s little poodle who kept good pace with me, I ran into a fellow who asked about hotels in the area. His name was Mark and he was from Manchester, England. Upon inquiry he explained he was on a motorcycle ride following Route One north – he had also biked on stretch in Australia, just by himself. Some people you get a real good feeling about right away, Mark was one of those. He was a good looking fellow in his thirty-fourties and I felt as if we had grown up together. In my life I have been in strange places and often lodged by people I ran into, so I enjoy it when I can return the favor to another. I happened to have a guest-shed/room for traveling friends, so I suggested he would be welcome to spend the night at my home.

Mark thanked me for the the splendid offer that would save him some money, and I explained where I live. Then I joyfully went onward on my rollerblades.

I came home, but no guest for the night showed up. Later I realized the poor fellow probably thought I was gay and as such looking to enhance my resume. “Good heavens” I thought to myself, and saw the picture of me with and the poodle blading down the street. I even introduced myself as “Bent” – which in England means something different than here in the US. Oh yes. This fellow saw the writing on the wall.

Need I say that none of my gay friends think I’m of that persuasion – but isn’t it funny how much we care about what someone thinks, even if they live in Manchester and we will never see them again?

It was Rex Harte, drums, FeelGood on bass, Dan Kressler on guitar with me on Saturday. On Sunday it was Grace Feldmann on percussion, Feel Good on bass, and Eric Brittain with mando, fiddle and dobro. As usual my soundman was missing, and we started out sparse. The audience starting coming in as we played and eventually we had some very appreciative people here. It is always interesting when musicians who have not played together – do. It’s like driving in partial fog – all of a sudden the picture clears and everything works. I learned a lot, and on both days we made some real music. Thank you all for coming.

As there is less than a month to the kickoff, I’m running into musicians in the most surprising ways. All old forms are falling away, like the first stage of a rocket that falls back towards Earth.

Everyone fits somehow. Nobody needs to change. Some will listen, some can not.
I have been blessed in many ways and gifts are for giving.

Sometimes the blessings of life are so obvious they cannot be ignored – like an omelette landing on your face – the best you can do is start consuming it.
I have a deck of cards, called the Sacred Path Cards by Jamie Sams. They are Neo-terrot cards with parables from the native-american culture and I use them for guidance from time to time. Just like trusting gravity even if nobody can explain it, I find it so with astrology, intuition and life in general. Seemingly random cards have spoken clearly to me in many situations. Tonight this was the lay-out:

Usually readings are a personal matter, but felt this one so extraordinary I had to tell someone.

What the cards said about my venture with the Crooked Path:
1:”The Issue”: Peyote Ceremony/New Abilities – You are being asked to recognize your immortal spirit. Expansive growth is now possible. Use the talents you have to the fullest.
2: “Be more open to this:” Thunder Beings/Usable Energy – You are a catalyzer and may now command the usable energy at hand. You are being funded with the energy needed to complete any task you have in mind.
3: “Put more of this out:” Council Fire/Decisions – Make a decision. There can be no forward movement if you fail to decide which trail will lead out of the swamp and into the forrest.
4: “The Outcome” Power Place/Earth-Connection/Empowerment. You are seeking a way to become a Catalyzer. Find a personal Power Place and call upon the Four Elements through prayers of gratitude. Then you can command your talent for good.

An extra card had been hiding in the book which was: Sacred Space/Respect, It spoke of the importance of respecting the possessions, ideas, homes, and persons of others. Only invite those who have earned the right into your Sacred Space. It is not important to be liked by others.

This is precisely what I am doing, how I am feeling about it, and what I needed to know.
Sometimes it is impossible to refute the guidance from another dimension.
Einstein once said, “He who does not believe in miracles is not a realist”.

Los Olivos is a place where time has a different meaning. Some call it “Los Olivos Standard Time”. It’s roughly an hour and a half earlier in the day than you thought it was. This means, if you expect to have dinner at six, expect seven-thirty instead. Something will happen and you will notice time moves slower here. It has been that way for many years in LO.

There is nothing anyone can do about it, and no need for action. In fact we think it’s good for everyone that way.

I have heard talk
On the subject of people living and working out of their homes in Santa Ynez Valley.
I have heard that “zoning” may prohibit such frivolity.

Naturally, were I to smoke and sell sardines from my toolshed – and you, the reader, lived downwind next door – we may have some problems, but today most “business from home” happens on computers or telephones and does not require trucks coming and going or anything fowling up the air.

I have not used the word “should” very much lately.
But it seems to me,
That one should not be penalized for finding a way to make a living where one lives.

If it hurts no one,
If there is no pollution,
and there can be community and harmony.

A while back I was sorry to see crews coming in laying in nice new sidewalks in Los Olivos. I liked the dirt better even if it was dusty in the summer. Dirt is good. I also like puddles after the rain.

I don’t know much of who runs what in Los Olivos, but I would like to offer the following observation: The people who come here to visit (and spend money) like this town because of it’s character. Not style. Character. Character is the imperfections, the run-down but still-working trucks, the Los Olivos Motors, the old buildings, the photographs in R Country Store of dogs and people. It is the spirit that still lives in the old buildings, the dirt sidewalks, and that old flagpole that makes people feel at ease.

Some people like Sears furniture, because they grew up with it. This town is a mixture of elegance and funk. It’s why people come here. They drink a little wine, listen to some music, walk around, decompress and return home with some nice memories.

My request for you, Los Olivos, is don’t be in a hurry to grow up, to change, to lay in sidewalks or build a shopping complex. We know you’ll grow, and more will come here as I did and like it a lot. Just leave the dirt for as long as possible, if you don’t mind. Thank you.

I found a new sign (I spell it sighn) in front of my home across from the Corner House Coffee Shop, informing drivers that soon another sign would appear to warn about a pedestrian crossing up the hill. The sign was an ugly yellow and blocked delivery trucks from parking on the dirtpatch – and off the road. Now they parked where they blocked traffic. Much safer, I thought to myself.

A few days later the same crew was back to install another sign in front of the coffee shop. “Angle Parking Only” is what it proclaimed – with a little schematic underneith. I walked over to the two-men crew. “Good Morning” I started in good faith. “Does it bother you to have a job posting signs that make no sense at all?”. To my surprise I met a reasonable human being. “A little,” he said. “I’ve never seen this one before, and there are so many nobody reads them anyway”. We considered the message “Angle Parking” relating to the dirt-patch in front. Would any angle suffice? 7 degrees? 45? What about 180? If the idea was to keep cars from sticking into traffic we noted that a car placed diagnoally would stick out further than straight in – and what about cars making a left to park…

After our inevitable conclusion I broached the issue of the sign in front of my home and trucks blocking traffic. “We can move it if you like..” said my now old friend. “where do you want it?”. I was flabbergasted. After I regained myself he went to work, and would you believe… fixed it?

Any system, in my view need people like this crew. This town is full of people who just work things out and that’s America to me. I like it here.

Oh, the other sign has yet to persuade a single car to park at an angle. That’s how is should be, too.

Driving from Los Olivos on 154 I lost a piece of frozen banana and it dropped onto the floor of my van. It was getting dark, but I could see where it had landed and calculated how I could pick it up without taking my eyes off the road for more than 1.6 seconds. There was no horrible accident and I even ate the piece.

Now we are not allowed to pick up our cell-phones the way we are used to without risking a ticket. Hamburgers will probably be next – with an added fine if it has cheese. Holding hands will be prohibited – I dare not think of other activities that involve hands and two people in a car. Of course, difficult conversations must be avoided – and outright arguments will be considered criminal offences. We must make everything safe. For the children, of course.

The other day I was stopped for not putting my seat-belt on fast enough. I always put it on, but not always before I have made sure the car is not catching fire.

Welcome to California. The land of the free, giving up their freedom to large systems and small minds. Since the cell-phone law we now scramble to connect it with a hands-free device, put in the earpiece, adjust the volume and see a chicken cross the road at the same time. Much safer. No-no you may say, you must already be wearing the headset and not touch the phone when it rings. Right. So in addition to having driver’s license, insurance, registration, and a seat-belt clipped, I must also be prepared to receive a call at all times.

The mind boggles with possibilities for innumerating other risky behavior: Donuts without jelly could be allowed, but not those with.., while hot coffee can only be consumed while waiting for a red light. We can have fines for everything we do inside automobiles, except sitting straight up with two hands on the wheel and eyes forward. Perhaps we could pass an additional ordinance which would prohibit sexy women from wearing short dresses on the sidewalk – which, as everyone knows, is a distraction to a large segment of the drivers.

Someone (a perplexed woman) before me in court (related to my seat-belt ticket) had – from the same officer – recieved a ticket for dropping ash out of the window from her cigarette in the City of Solvang – interpreted by the court as an “incinerary device”.

I can explain most of this, but not why we let our elected officals get away with such nonsense. From this point I will cheer any police officer capable of disregarding the law when it makes no sense.

I hope that there are policemen/women who dislike giving tickets for “nothing” offenses as much as we, the public, dislike getting them.
[Editor’s note: I will, in the following use “man”, “he” and “him” – full knowing there is “woman”, “she” and “her” also, thank you]

It is a noble thing to be willing to risk your life to protect others. It should be a respected position to be a policeman, but I don’t see how this is possible any more when he is asked, nay told to go collect revenue for the state for any good reason. A ticket for not wearing a seat-belt, for dropping cigarette ash onto the pavement from a moving car – things like that – is ridiculous. Anyone knows it.

I asked a judge in traffic court, Solvang, if there was an emphasis on giving more tickets to make money, and he admitted openly to this. To me, a good cop is one who sits in the landscape and keeps an eye on things. His aim is to have things go smoothly where he is and he looks for drivers that “stick out”. If someone zig-zags or speeds past the flow of others, the good cop flags them down and sees if they are OK and safe to drive. He’ll let them go with a warning if he thinks that they are on his side, or throw them in jail if he finds they need to learn a lesson. The good cop is a fine judge of character. He can tell if people are lying, but he doesn’t assume it.

If I were a cop, that’s how I would want it. “To Serve and Protect” sounded pretty good to me when I first heard it. Is that how it is now? – or is more “To Collect and Serve”?

Policemen, Sheriffs, Highway Patrolmen have a serious job to do looking for bad guys, really dangerous situations and to be available when disaster strikes. That is what they are trained for and that is what the community has hired them to do. I, for one, am sorry they are being told to be tax-collectors often under the guise of “protecting” us from ourselves. When the public cannot trust the motive of an approaching officer, respect is only founded in the fact the he carries a gun. We obey. We avoid. We dislike.

What also adds to the chasm is overt callous behaviour, such as racing through a quiet town full of people, animals and children at unsafe speeds. Our (click here to see the video) webcam caught the fourth ‘first reponder’ zipping through Grand Avenue as if Godzilla was two doors down and about to attack. Apparently some officers had trouble with a fellow out by the highway. Perhaps their Tasers had run out of batteries, I don’t know, but they must have radioed for help in such a way their colleagues put the general population at greater peril that the perpetrator himself.

The way I see it is that all of life is a miracle, and as I study what scientists come up with, every detail of our natural universe bears witness of an intelligence so vast our brains are no match to comprehend even the coattails of it. We are mortals with abilities tailored to see a particular perspective. Our bodies and minds will perish but our Soul will not.

While I have no rush to get to the end of life, nor to know who/what is the source of it all, I am interested in knowing the way in which things work. I figure that I do not need to know how gravity works any more than knowing how a transmission in a car functions – in order to use it. I do not need to monitor the billions of processes that occur at any moment in order to give me a body to live in, and neither do I need to know what happens after we die. I am here for now and wish to experience life of a human being as fully as possible.

I believe life is a sort-of game we have chosen to participate in. We have limitations based on a shared belief system, but probably have a lot more power than we will ever know. Words have power, thoughts focus energy – and we have free will to create our own reality. As far as the super-being we call God keeping an eye on us – I do not think such a being has a predestined plan for each of us. Life is a game where we have limited knowledge but free will to act. We have free will to create a joyful or miserable experience here on Earth and Great Mystery does not judge us, nor punish us for bad behavior. Religions that believe in “sin” or say to be “God-fearing” seem illogical to me. Why would I fear something which which created the entire universe including me. Something that propels each molecule to exist in the Universe? I used to say, If God had wanted me to do everything right – He/She/It/We/They would have fired me a long time ago.

Even the ideas of “Karma” seem a bit skewed to me: If I am presented with a choice and opt for playing small or petty I will live through the consequences of that choice. There will be no victory dance, no hero’s welcome, nor joy to share with others when taking the lesser road. The punishment for stealing, is time spent feeling like a thief. Unearned victories are seldom celebrated. The “sin” that some religions speak of, is a word meaning to “fall short” – as it was used in Roman times in Archery, from what I’ve heard. To me it means that if you don’t jump into the burning building to save the baby, there is no punishment from the universe even if the baby dies. The flames provide a temporary opening for the path of a hero – and with it an indescribable experience, but it is only a potential and if you fall short it is simply a lesser experience. No Karma is being kept track of, like Santa Clause or TRW. The Universe has no ax to grind. “Fate” is being in the right place at the right time, but there is no price to pay if we are not, or do not measure up.

I believe our free will even extends through death and some may indeed experience the white tunnel, relatives waiting – while others could create a version of Purgatory, Heaven and Hell on the other side. Hopefully some angels are standing by to intervene in such cases, but I think we still will govern our own soul’s journey – even from other dimensions. We can choose our next adventure, such as living another life – or coming back as a tree, grasshopper or seagull.

Many scientist say the entire Universe is simply a thought. I believe the thought is “I exist”. Science has long been looking for something solid, but it appears there is nothing solid here at all. First the distance between a nucleus and it’s first electron can be compared to a raisin orbiting an apple, at a 10 miles radius – at the speed of light. Then Molecules become particles, particles become plusses and minuses – that come from nowhere and disappear without a trace. We are in a reality-dream that can only exist because of what we call Time. Time creates distance. Without time reality does not exist. – That’s how far science can take me – and I’ve heard that is what the movie “The Theory of Everything” is all about.

To me, it seems logical that if a vast intelligence have created me they/he/she/it/we – were either not paying attention, or they created everything – including me – on purpose. If they weren’t paying attention they may not even know we exist – in which case we can go on living, perhaps like barnacles on a ship, but if we were created as a deliberate act, maybe they/he/she/it/we is/are still on our side. It’s a chance worth taking and I believe talking to a bush is just as good as talking to a cross in a church. We seem to be heard and responded to in a myriad of ways and I have no idea how or why.

The question many people often ask God is: “What is the meaning of life?” – but is not a fair question. We were given free will and it is the Creator’s question to us: “What gives your life meaning?”